*CHAPTER VIII.*
*MILLY'S NEW HAT.*
"I shall be sorry to have to keep you in this afternoon, Lena," saidMiss Marshall; "but if you do not pay more attention to your lessons Ishall be obliged to."
"They are so difficult," grumbled Lena.
"That is nonsense. Milly has said hers correctly, and surely you can doso also; you are not paying the slightest attention this morning."
"Of course Milly does it best when you help her," muttered Lena, but intones loud enough to be heard by her governess.
Things went on from bad to worse. Lena was in a cross, stubborn mood.She was hugging to herself, as it were, the disappointment of theafternoon before, dwelling upon it, and looking at it over and overagain in the light of her own wounded pride and vanity. This was themorning of the day they had all looked forward to with such pleasure,the day when they were all to have tea in the hay-field; and now,instead of getting through her lessons well and quickly, she wasallowing her thoughts and attention to wander anywhere they would,except to the one place they ought to have rested on.
"Have you got a headache, Lena?" asked Miss Marshall at length, when herpatience was nearly exhausted.
"No," was the short answer.
"Then what is the matter with you, dear?" she asked kindly.
"Nothing, only my lessons are so difficult."
"Let me try and explain them to you again," said Miss Marshall; andtaking the book she went over the prescribed task. But all her kindnesswas thrown away; it was not that Lena could not, it was that she wouldnot learn. When the usual hour for ending morning lessons arrived, Lenawas all behind, and there was nothing to be done except to excuse herthem altogether, or to keep her in for part of the afternoon. Thelatter course was what Miss Marshall resolved on.
"Lena must stay in alone," said Mrs. Graham, when she heard of thisresolution. "I am very sorry for it, my child, but I cannot helpmyself. It would not be fair to deny any of the others their pleasurebecause you choose to be so naughty and wilful."
All but the cook were going to the hay-field. She was remaining to lookafter the house during the absence of all the others, and so Lena wouldnot be quite alone in the house.
"Directly you think you know your lessons you may come and join us. Iknow I can trust you, my little one," said her mother kindly to thechild as she left her sitting alone in the schoolroom. For a littlewhile Lena sat leaning her elbows on the table and gazing into vacancy,as she heard the voices of her mother and sisters gradually dying awayin the distance. It was very hard, she thought, sitting here all byherself, when they were all enjoying themselves out of doors, forgettingthat it was all her own doing. Suddenly a new impulse seized her, andbending down over her book, she began to read over her lesson. The dooropened, and Hester came in.
"Have you not gone yet, Hester?" asked Lena in surprise.
"No, Miss, I had to finish my work first. I am ready now, only waitingfor Emma. She has gone to put the salt into Miss Milly's bath. Oh,Miss Lena, do make haste and do your lessons: only think what yourAuntie would say if she saw you now."
"She would not have been so cross and kept me in."
"Well, dear, show that you can do them as well as Miss Milly."
Hester had touched her pride with this speech, and tossing back her headshe answered, "Of course I can if I choose."
"Well then, dear, I would choose; it's a pity to lose all the fun of thehaymaking, and such a lovely afternoon as it is, too."
"I won't be long now, Hester; I will learn them."
"Shall I wait for you?"
"No, thank you, Hester, I will soon follow you."
Then with a few kindly words of encouragement Hester left the room, andLena applied herself to her task with such goodwill that very soon shehad learnt it correctly.
Putting away her books, she went up for her walking things. As shepassed her mother's room, the door of which was left wide open, she wentin, and going to the window looked out to see if she could see them inthe field. Not a person was to be seen--all lay so still and peacefulin the bright sunshine, the silence only broken by the song of a bird orthe distant lowing of cattle. Turning from the window, Lena's eye fellon the box that had come from Mrs. Clifford. It had been taken out forsome reason from the wardrobe, placed on the bed, and evidentlyforgotten to be put back. Lena lingered a moment beside it. She hadnot seen it except for the few moments that Milly had held it before heron first taking it out of the box. She would like to have a good lookat it, and here was an opportunity for doing so privately and withouthaving to ask Milly to allow her to do so. Opening the box, she liftedthe paper and looked in. Then taking it carefully out, she turned itround and examined it more attentively. "What a nice feather!" shemurmured. "I wonder if it looks nice on." That was very easy todecide. Placing it on her head, she walked to the looking-glass. Itwas a very becoming one, she considered, as she turned her head fromside to side to see it to every advantage. A sudden noise made herstart guiltily and turn quickly round, "for a fearful conscience makescowards of us all." So quickly had she turned and with such a jerk,that off went the hat. Lena made a dash at it, but it was too late, shecould not save it. With a splash it went into the salt bath preparedfor Milly's weak ancles, and which was always taken into her mother'sroom. With a cry of horror Lena snatched it out, but alas! the mischiefwas done, the beautiful curly feather was soaking. Such amiserable-looking object it was, as Lena gazed at it in dismay. Hastilytaking a towel from the rack, she rubbed away at the unfortunate hat;then when the straw was dry, or looked nearly so, she shook itvigorously, hoping in this way to restore the feather to its formerbeauty. All the shaking and rubbing was of no use, for the featherstill remained all wet and uncurled. Holding it before the firesometimes did a wet feather good, Lena knew; should she take it down andask cook to let her hold it before the kitchen fire? As she stoodmeditating she saw through the open window her father and Milly comingtowards the house. If Milly had been alone she would have run and toldher all, for all anger and pride had died away in her fright and sorrow,for she was sorry for the mischief she had caused, but the sight of herfather made her hesitate. "He would be so angry," she thought, and theremembrance of the stern way he had spoken to her the night she hadlooked over Aunt Mary's shoulder and read her letter, came back to her."She could not tell him." She would wait and tell Milly afterwards, orMama. She would understand it was not done intentionally. Thrusting thehat hastily into the box again, she hurried to her room, trembling andalmost in tears.
"Lena, Lena, where are you?" shouted Milly, as she bounded upstairs tolook for her, after having failed to find her in the schoolroom."Getting ready? Oh, I am so glad you have done. I have come back tobring you--we all want you so much. Crying, Lena?" she continued, andreceiving no answer--"Oh, don't cry; it is all right now."
Here was Lena's opportunity to confess all, and this she determined todo. Bursting out afresh into tears, she sobbed, "Oh, Milly clear, doforgive me; the hat"----she went on incoherently.
Here Milly interrupted her with a kiss--"Never mind the tiresome oldhat; I never want to see it again. I love you better than all the hatsin the world."
"But, Milly, I must tell you"----
Here Colonel Graham's voice was heard calling in rather impatient tonesfor them to make haste.
"There, Lena, you must come; I won't listen to one word more about thehat;" and dragging her after her, she hurried down to join her father.
No one took any notice of Lena's tear-stained face, all attributing itto the fact of her having been kept in; and when Mama, greeting her witha loving kiss, the tears welled up afresh, they were thought to be onlysigns of sorrow for her conduct during the morning, and only drew forthanother kiss and kind words of forgiveness, "Now, darling, run and jointhe others, and all enjoy yourselves."
Though Lena joined in all the games and pleasures of the others, it wasnot with the full enjoyment
with which she usually did so. No onealluded either to her having been kept at home, or to the disappointmentof the day before, except once, and that was done by Lucy, who said,"Milly, Bessie says she expects that my present was small, and must havegot hidden among the paper."
"No, Lucy dear, I am sure there was not anything more in the box."
"Yes, so am I," said Lena, flushing scarlet, "it is very stupid ofBessie saying such things to you."
"I believe Bessie, and she is not stupid; she is very nice--nicer thanyou," and the child walked off, indignantly murmuring to herself, "Imean to look and see, for I believe Bessie."
"I wish she would not tell Lucy such things; she never thinks how bad itis for her." The one she alluded to being Bessie, who petted andspoiled the child, giving her everything she asked for, and neverallowing either of her sisters to contradict her; or when they did so,she made up for it by an extra petting.
Lena was ill at ease, and looked so tired when evening came that Mamasent her off to bed, attributing the weary looks and subdued manner toover fatigue from running about in the heat.
As Lena lay waiting for Milly to come to bed--for Lena had been sent offfirst by Mama--she decided that she would tell Milly when she came in,and then together they would tell their mother; but all her plans werefrustrated by the weary eyes closing in sleep before her sister came in,and so quiet was Milly that she did not awake her.
The following morning doubts and conjectures began to trouble Lena.Milly made such a fuss when she began to speak of the hat, and say shewould not hear a word more about it; she had said she did not care onebit about it. Still conscience kept telling her over and over again,that there was but one path before her, and that was a very plain andstraight one, called Truth. The longer she put off telling, the moredifficult it became. She would tell her while dressing. "Milly," shebegan, just before they left the room, "I want to speak to you about thehat."
"O Lena, please don't say anything now about it, or I shall hate it.Mama and I decided last night that it is to be left in its box, and Ishall forget all about it: I could not wear it now."
"Could not wear it now," Lena repeated, but no one heard her, for Millyhad left the room. "Could Mama and Milly have opened the box last nightand seen what had happened? Yes, that must be it; how good and kindMilly was to forgive her so easily. She would show her how grateful shewas, and how much she loved her and Mama too for forgiving her." Shefelt she did not deserve this kind treatment, but she would try to inthe future. All that day Lena expected her mother to say somethingabout the feather, but not one word was said, not even when they werealone. Lena tried very hard all that day to be good, and was gentle andaffectionate to both her sisters, especially Milly, who was so glad tohave Lena once more on amiable terms with her that she was in the bestand highest spirits.
When Mama gave her little girls their good-night kiss, Lena said, "Howgood you are to me, Mama!"
"When one tries to be good oneself, darling, one always finds thatothers are trying to be the same; as when one is cross, one thinkseverybody is cross too."
Lucy had not forgotten Bessie's remark, that perhaps Milly hadoverlooked her present, and that very probably it had got among thepaper that formed the wrappings of the hat and work-basket. To find thisout Lucy was quite determined, but how to do so was the difficulty. Shehad asked Mama if she would look, but her answer had not beensatisfactory to the child--"Milly had looked, and the paper from Mrs.Clifford proved that only Milly was to receive anything." Lucy wantedto see for herself. The box was in Mama's wardrobe she knew, and couldbe very easily got at and searched, if only she could do so withoutbeing seen. Some days passed away, and no opportunity occurred. Onewas sure to come, for it is wonderful how opportunities do occur, foreither good or evil, when eagerly watched for. It was the case withLucy. Colonel and Mrs. Graham had gone to return a visit some distanceoff; the two elder girls had gone with Miss Marshall, Gertrude Freelingand her governess for a long walk to some woods in the neighbourhood.This walk had long been talked of, but it was too far to go in theirusual walking hours, so had been arranged for a half-holiday. WhenGertrude and Miss Gifford called for the Grahams, Astbury being on theway, they brought word that Bessie was not going with them; she wouldcome down later and take Lucy for a play in the fields. This was asplendid opportunity for Lucy to search the box. Hester was busy in thenursery, so Lucy asked leave to go and meet Bessie. This was at onceaccorded, for the time fixed on for her coming was close at hand.Instead of going out at once, Lucy went to her mother's room. Shuttingthe door quietly, so that she should not be seen, she opened thewardrobe. The box was too high for her to reach, so putting a chairclose she mounted on it, and was thus enabled easily to reach thedesired object. Placing it on the floor, she opened it, and lifting thehat out, put it on the floor beside her, without uncovering it from thepaper in which it was wrapped. Then she made a careful but unavailingsearch. The child's face grew longer and longer as the conviction wasat last forced upon her, that there was really nothing more there. Itwas quite true then that she had been told the truth by Milly, andBessie was wrong. Anger succeeded to disappointment. Without waiting toremove the chair or to replace the box, she turned to go; the papercontaining the hat lay before her: giving it a kick with her foot, forLucy had worked herself into a rage by this time, she sent hat, paper,and all flying across the room. Then, without waiting to see theeffects of the kick, she rushed out of the room, down the stairs, andinto the garden. Bessie had not arrived, so she started off to meether, and pour into her ever-friendly ear her tale of woe.